Assassin In The School
by Random Antagonist
Summary: Now, THIS is how to kill a fictional character. Sort of a Discworld crossover. Please read and review.


Assassin In The School 

At this point, it should be explained that the second most dangerous person in the world is reading the newspaper, the _Ankh-Morpork Times: The Truth Shall Make Ye Frew_, as the letterhead reads. 

She is not quite awake yet, and is drinking Klatchian coffee to remedy this fact. She is one of three people in the world who can drink pure Klatchian coffee without getting extremely drunk first. 

She has just accidentally tipped a spoonful of oatmeal onto a picture of a humorously shaped vegetable, and is currently scanning an editorial about how her father is allowing too many dwarves into the city. 

"Hey, check this out." She pushes the paper across to the table to her father, who is also drinking Klatchian coffee and is reviewing a police report. 

Lord Vetinari takes the paper. "Too many dwarves…more than the human population…the rat population has gone down? Who _wrote_ this?" 

Alexandria shrugs. "I think the head of the Rich Snobby Bastards' guild wrote it. So, what are _you _reading?" 

"Sergeant Colon's police report." Her father smiles slightly. "There are some very unconventional uses of punctuation in this. You could learn something." 

Alexandria shrugs. She knows how to use punctuation, unlike most Morporkians. She also knows how to spell. 

Alexandria is a striking person, the daughter of the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork and an unidentified high-ranking lady vampire who lives in Uberwald. Alexandria has been educated at the Assassin's Guild. Not only is she a very talented and educated person, but she is also the youngest person to ever pass the Assassin's test. She owes this to her personal tutor, a young man named Jonathon Teatime, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances last Hogswatch. Alexandria has had only the best since her birth. Her father hired a governess named Susan Sto-Helit, who came very highly recommended. 

From her father, Alexandria got her thin figure, unnerving calmness, high intelligence, a sharp nose, and a tendency to wear black. From her mother, she got long, silky black hair and a widow's peak, violet eyes, pale skin, and blood-red lips, excellent vision in the dark, and a general ability to not mind blood and gore. She was, in fact, the only person who ever ate the black pudding on Thursdays. Also—and this is important—from her mother, she got intriguing magical abilities. 

Because of this, Alexandria is being tutored in both wizardry _and_ witchcraft (which are NOT the same things, and if you don't believe it, read _Equal Rites_, by Terry Pratchett) by Eskarina Smith, the only woman ever to be accepted at Unseen University. 

Lord Vetinari shrugs. "Well, whoever wrote this editorial must be wrong." 

"Why do you say that?" Alexandria asks. 

Vetinari quietly points to a corner. A small, worried-looking rat is sitting there, staring at the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork and his daughter. 

"They carry disease," Alexandria says. 

The rat suddenly turns into a man. "_I _don't." He looks at them mournfully. "At least, I don't _think_ I do." 

"Well, have you gotten yourself checked?" Alexandria snaps. 

Vetinari sighs and lays the police report aside. It can wait until this odd visitor is dealt with. "How did you get in here?" 

"It was easy," the man says. "I got in through that little hole in the wall, then went through the ventilation until I found you two. My name's Peter Pettigrew, by the way." He looks at the floor. "My master sent me here." 

"Who," asks Vetinari coldly, "is your master?" Havelock Vetinari is morally opposed to people calling other people "master." He considers it detrimental to political morale, and demeaning, besides. 

"Voldemort," whispered Pettigrew. He straightened up. "My master bids you to…oh jeez, what did he say...inhume his greatest enemy." 

Vetinari gives him a Look. "And you expect _me_ to do this." 

Pettigrew blushes. "Oh no, sir. Voldemort would not ask one with such responsibilities to kill. But we have heard of your daughter's skill, and request her services." 

Vetinari looks at his daughter. "Just a moment." 

The two converse in the other room for a moment, in ancient Klatchian, which Pettigrew certainly does not know. 

Vetinari: This would be your first inhuming. 

Alexandria: I can handle things myself. You know that. 

Vetinari: Are you sure you really want to be an Assassin? Because it's either that or rule the city. The people won't respect you if they know you're an Assassin. 

Alexandria: Who ever said I _wanted_ to rule the city? I'd like to be an Assassin. Besides, I'd do a lousy job being a ruler. I don't have leadership material and you know it. 

Vetinari: But we can't count on anyone else to do it. 

Alexandria: The job shouldn't be hereditary. If we ran Captain Carrot for Patrician after you died, everyone would vote for him. I already went over this with you. 

Vetinari: It's your life, my dear. If you want to make your fortune in highly unusual and difficult inhumations, go ahead.

Alexandria: Thank you, I will. 

Vetinari: Good luck dealing with him. 

Alexandria walks back into the breakfast room. Pettigrew is still there, waiting for them. 

"How much will Voldemort pay?" Alexandria asks. 

Pettigrew looks surprised. "I don't know. He never said anything about paying." 

Alexandria turns her back haughtily on him. "I am an Assassin, not a murderer. I do not kill without receiving payment." 

Pettigrew scrabbles for words. "But…that is…I'm sure I could get him to…" He looks mournfully at Alexandria. "If you don't, he'll kill me!" 

Alexandria takes pity on him. "Tell you what," she says. "First, get me the information I'll need to inhume this person. Then I'll tell you how much it'll cost." 

Pettigrew nods. "Be back in a second." He turns back into a rat and disappears into a hole in the wall. 

After a few minutes, a wad of papers is pushed through the hole. Pettigrew crawls through after it, and turns back into a human. 

Alexandria looks at the wad disdainfully. "_This_ is the information?" 

Pettigrew sweeps the breakfast things aside and sets the papers on the table, smoothing them out. "This is all you need to know to inhume him. I trust you have some kind of magical powers?" 

"Some," Alexandria says cautiously. She picks up a stack of papers and riffles through them. "This may be very difficult." 

"Thirty million dollars," Pettigrew says. 

Alexandria raises one eyebrow. This is one thousand times the sum an ordinary inhuming would take. "Time limit?" 

"A year," Pettigrew says. He grins madly. "Is it OK?" 

Alexandria lays the papers aside and smiles thinly. "It's OK." 

Alexandria reviews the information. She has decided on the best way to do the job, and is preparing. 

She slips her dagger into the sheath. It's a special dagger, made out of octiron, a magical metal. It's eight inches long. She's made the sheath specially for this job. It's disguised as a wand. 

Her magpie, Mordor, is sitting on her shoulder. He's a very intelligent bird, with an excellent wingspread and a tendency to steal pieces of jewelry. 

Alexandria pats him on the head. She got Mordor as a birthday present from her father, who felt a little guilty over sending her to Uberwald during _Carpe Jugulum_. Alexandria has trained him well, and he doesn't go to the bathroom on her shoulder anymore. 

She checks the locks on her luggage. And no, it doesn't have any legs. Or teeth. But it does have wheels. 

She hasn't packed very much. Assassins tend to travel light. She has affixed an anti-stealing charm to all of her things, and, in case that doesn't work, has a booby trap in her luggage. Her father's clerk, Drumknott, has given her a Dis-Organizer Mk III, which not only can tell you the time and your appointments, but can also play games on. It has a wooden frame, in which the imp inserts little colored blocks, and you're supposed to make them fit. 

She checks over the information once again. "So I'm supposed to just try and bash right through this gate? What happens if it doesn't work?" 

"Then I suppose you're completely screwed," Eskarina says. She's standing over Alexandria, watching her pack. Eskarina is a pretty woman, with short brown hair, a gap in her front teeth, and eyes like steel. She's very pleasant to be around, as long as you don't cross her. 

Alexandria slams down the lid of the suitcase. It jumps slightly. "I think I'd rather use a teleportation spell, thank you." 

Eskarina sighs. "All right, but we'll need to get Hex to work out the coordinates." 

Alexandria stands in the middle of an octagon, drawn by Ponder Stibbons, the university programmer. Her things surround her. "Are you sure this is going to work?" 

Ponder checks the measurements. "It should work. Are you ready?" 

Alexandria nods. "Go ahead, please." 

Ponder turns to the students behind him. "Adrian, initialize the CEF." 

Alexandria blinks. "The what?" 

"The Controlled Energy Funnel, if I'm not mistaken." Lord Vetinari emerges from a shadow. "Is that right?" 

Alexandria groans. "You're embarrassing me." 

Ponder blinks. "Um, right. Everyone ready? Let's go!" 

Alexandria is lost in a whirl of octarine light. She dimly sees Eskarina yelling happily, her father watching with a thin smile, and the great, hulking shape of Hex, looming over the proceedings. Mordor squawks, but keeps his grip on her shoulder. And then…

The smoke clears, and Alexandria blinks. She is in a huge hall. There are people sitting at tables, watching her. 

A whisper goes through the students. "Just Apparated here…can't do that…impossible…how?…why?…agent of the Dark Lord…" 

Alexandria regains her composure. "Excuse me," she says. "I do hope I haven't interrupted anything." 

A man in a blue robe and a white beard hurries up to Alexandria. She recognizes him as Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of the school. "Young lady," he begins, "what are you doing here?" 

"Hopefully, I'm going to attend school here," Alexandria informs him coolly. "I certainly hope you aren't going to tell me that I can't." 

Dumbledore stops and looks at her. "How did you get past the protective spells? Who sent you here?" 

Alexandria isn't quite sure of the first question, so she answers the second one. "My father sent me here." 

"And who," Dumbledore asks, "would your father be?" 

"Lord V—" Alexandria begins, but is cut off by someone's scream. "Lord Vetinari," she says, "the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork." 

Dumbledore gives her an odd look. "Let us discuss this in my office." 

As Alexandria leaves the hall, she feels approximately a thousand eyes staring at her. She mentally gives them the finger. 

Dumbledore clears his throat. "You say Lord Vetinari sent you here?" 

"Yes," Alexandria says. "Do you know him?" 

Dumbledore looks pained. "I know him, all right. Why did he send you here? I thought you were being taught at the Assassin's Guild." 

Alexandria shrugs. "I'm very interested in magic. I thought I might learn something here." 

Dumbledore ruffles through a pile of papers. "According to your father's letter, you're already very skilled in magic. What could you possibly learn here that you don't know already?" 

Alexandria clears her throat. "Wizardry and witchcraft are two different things on the Disc," she says, "and I'm very well versed in both of them. However, the crafts that I have learned are both very different things; witchcraft is mainly getting inside people's heads and making things with herbs, and wizardry is mainly measuring things and memorizing spells. I'd like to get to the root of magic, which you can't get on the Disc." 

This little speech, of course, is basically a load of fewmets. Alexandria knows that witchcraft and wizardry are different things for a very good reason, and that they are more powerful when separated. But Dumbledore, despite his reputation, doesn't know that. That's where Alexandria has the advantage over any witch or wizard on this world. Generic magic is a very weak thing. 

Dumbledore looks at her over his glasses. She can tell he is impressed. "Well then. If you really want to learn magic, this is the place." He stands up. "On behalf of everyone here, welcome to Hogwarts." 


End file.
